24 meets Splinter Cell
by Phantasmak
Summary: A 24.Splinter Cell crossover. Better than it sounds. Post S5, alternate universe where Jack Bauer still works for CTU. I've also placed it after SC: Double Agent though the game is not out yet and I don't know its outcome.
1. Chapter 1

**Ever thought how it would be to bring together two so similar yet so different action/drama heroes who serve the same purpose? How would it be to combine a Tom Clancy-style techno thriller scenario with the non-stop time-pressing 24 hour clock?**

Within twenty four hours, a nightmare will be unleashed that could cause the death of hundreds, devastate a city, and this would only be the beginning of a chain of events that may change a whole nation. Terrorists operate within the U.S. borders and a new threat is coming from a conspiracy within the highest levels of the government...

Two men stand between the destroyers and the death tide. Anti-terrorist agent Jack Bauer wakes up to a morning call from Los Angeles Counter Terrorist Unit. Sam Fisher, former lone wolf ultra-secret operative for one of America's most top secret infiltration organizations, takes up an assignment by a former supervisor and old friend. But will they be able to stop the terror in such a short notice? Time is almost up...

The following takes place after season 5 and after Splinter Cell: Double Agent

At the time of this writing, S_plinter Cell: Double Agent will take a few months until it's released. I will have to make certain assumptions in order to place the story after Double Agent._

_This is an alternate universe where Jack Bauer has returned to and works again for CTU Los Angeles._

_This work may contain some material that may seem offensive to the beliefs, affiliations or opinions of some individuals. This is merely a work of fiction. The author does not share the opinions, beliefs and affiliations of the characters. _

_I do not own any of the 24 and Splinter Cell characters and am not affiliated in any way with Ubisoft, Fox etc etc. I'm not making a single penny out of this work but do it simply for the enjoyment of 24 and Splinter Cell fans and myself._

**Prologue**

SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA

The meeting was very important and it seemed that the other party was as interested.

For Yang Kim Lin, the middleman of the two sides, it couldn't be any better. He was one of those who started it, today. The result remained to be seen. There was nothing else on his end that could be done.

Now, sitting in the back of his black limousine, watching the buildings and pedestrians swing by, he was thinking that he would call it a day early today and then he would probably spend some time with his beloved wife. It was still midday.

He took and opened the briefcase that was sitting next to him. In it, there were the notes his aides had taken during this course of events. He would study them later. What was now important was to make a phone call to his superiors and inform them of the day's developments.

He left the briefcase down and looked outside the car's window. He would be home in a couple of minutes.

The last thing Yang Kim Lin ever heard was a large, very large noise. He felt himself going up along with the car, as unbearable heat pierced his body at the same time.

---  
FIVE DAYS LATER

Joy.

That's what was running in the veins of the five men gathered at the small table. The hanging light was dangling over them in the kitchen. The house was small, slightly dilapidated on the inside, the wooden doors and stairwells wet and rotten, but the men around the table didn't seem to mind. Nobody lived in that place permanently anymore.

Today wasn't a normal day, though. They were all there only for tonight, as they had gathered to talk about business. The five men were talking at the same time as if each wanted only his own voice to be heard on the table. A proper conversation didn't seem to be the option tonight. Everyone looked excited.

A fat man slammed his hand on the wooden table. The piece of furniture wasn't so stable as to remain in position and it took a good shake. The voices stopped.

"This is the last time this conversation is being held. We are out of time for yelling and chatting" said the man in his native Urdu. "I know you have all put a lot of effort in this and you all have something to say on it. Rest is assured, the plan will be carried out, as we have planned it to the last detail."

Nobody said anything.

"In a few hours from now, America will live a nightmare it has never known before." the man continued. "You will see what Los Angeles will look like tomorrow, ins'Allah".

"Ins'Allah" all agreed immediately.

Seven thousand kilometres away, sleepless electronic ears were constantly receiving signals coming from sources around the world. The signal from Rawalpindi, Pakistan, was being rerouted via two satellites to Fort Meade, where the National Security Agency headquarters reside.

"If God wills it" repeated a young female voice. In her monitor, she saw the six men stand up from their seats. The images were night vision live feed, apparently captured by a source outside the kitchen.

Anna Grimsdottir didn't take her eyes off the screen. "It looks like the meeting is over. We only have a few hours to act but we don't know how many."

In the hallway adjacent to the kitchen in the old house, a shadow had remained still. The unseen man was wearing a black clad and balaclava hood. His eyes were covered by a set of three green glowing goggles in a triangular lineup. The fact that he hadn't moved at all had saved him from detection while he could still be spotted in the twilight.

"I'll get one of them and see if he can tell me anything useful" the man replied through his headwear.

A male voice spoke back to him. "Jeffers, interrogate as many as you have to, but don't leave any witnesses behind," the sharp voice directed the operative.

"Copy that, Lambert." the agent confirmed.

One of the men who walked off the kitchen went to some stairs that led to the upper floor. Agent Jeffers curbed into a ball to be as less visible as possible. So far, nobody seemed to have noticed him in the dark as a couple of men walked by and away from him. His training seemed to have paid off today, he thought. This was Nick Jeffers's first real assignment in the field and, to his surprise, he managed quite well so far. As the sun came down, he had dressed up in full gear and got ready for insertion to the house where suspected terrorist planners were going to gather. He had hoped for them to mention the exact time and location of the place the terrorist attack was intended to be carried out so he would not put himself at a greater risk, but it was now a job he had to do.

As Abdjheet Ahmadi walked up the stairs, he bumped into the last staircase and almost fell down. He cursed for their leader not being able to find a house with more than half of its lights working but that was not important right now. He was very happy about how things turned out and would feel even more delighted when the evening news would play in a few hours. Everything was falling into place at last.

Ahmadi was a bit disappointed for someone else had been selected to sacrifice his life for the cause, but he was certain his chance would come soon. Then he would serve the cause properly.

As he stood in front of the toilet and started unbuttoning his zipper, he could swear there was somebody very near him although he didn't hear any footsteps.

Before he had the time to make another thought, he felt a sharp blade slightly touching his throat.

"Don't move a muscle," a voice spoke in English with American accent. "I only want to ask you one question: where and when will your 'plan' be executed? Whisper. If your friends hear you, I'll simply slit your throat and sneak out before anyone figures what's going on.

"Fuck yourself, American. You will not get anything from me. You will get nothing!"

"I know you are willing to die. I don't intend to kill you, but I can still hurt you pretty bad so that you won't be able to serve your cause. Mark my words, you will tell me what I need to know," the voice whispered.

Ahmadi was clearly disturbed by that thought, but he still couldn't reveal to this American the plan they had worked so hard for. He now felt the blade being pressed on his skin and had to do something, and fast.

"New York City, 11am Eastern Standard Time", Ahmadi replied quickly.

"How do I know you're not shitting me?"

"I don't know. How do you intend to find out?" Ahmadi managed to say.

"It's not New York City. It's L.A. Now then all I need from you is the correct time."

"Intruder!" yelled a voice from the doorway as another man was walking into the toilet and saw the dark figure. Instinctively he went for his gun but the man in black hid behind Ahmadi, placing the latter between himself and the man at the doorway.

"Don't mind me!" Ahmadi cried. "Shoot him! Kill him!"

Three more men replied to the alert and arrived outside the toilets. They immediately drew out their pistols. The man who got there first pressed the trigger three times and an equal number of bullets found the chest of Abdjheet Ahmadi. The weight of the intruder's leverage suddenly increased and he could no longer hold the body which had just played off the role of the human shield.

"Our brother served his cause. He was sacrificed so we can get you," said the man who shot Ahmadi.

Four pistols were now aimed at agent Jeffers, who raised his hands high.

"Black hell!" colonel Irving Lambert exclaimed. "I'll let the director know. We must inform all domestic agencies of an imminent terrorist strike."


	2. Chapter 1: 5:00 AM 6:00 AM

**Chapter 1**

The following takes place

between the hours of

5 am and 6 am

Pacific Standard Time

The house was white in colour and was reflecting the light of the setting sun. It was built on a big rock two hundred meters high, part of a unique shaping of the island. It was big on the inside and had a large balcony with green decorative plants.

Teri Bauer walked and stood next to the balcony railing.

"What's the problem, Jack? You scared?" she said teasingly.

"Who, me? Just come here", Jack Bauer laughed from a few metres far.

"You come here and take your chances, big man."

"Don't tempt me now" Bauer said while he started walking towards a Teri dressed in white.

As Jack was embracing her, her hair turned brunette and her face started transforming into someone else's. Bauer looked clearly confused from the event and to his horror, her face started resembling one of the people he hated the most.

"I've got you right where I want you now, Jack. And guess what: it's time to die," said Nina Myers staring at him with ice cold eyes.

Jack Bauer fought to escape her grasp to no avail. He felt like fighting against metal restraints.

"Give it up, Jack. Consider this a gift from me. I'm sending you to your bitch a bit early," Myers laughed as her grasp started getting tighter.

A ringing sound filled the open space. Bauer couldn't figure where it was coming from. Nina didn't seem to pay attention to it, but the sound insisted.

The sunset, the island and Myers's image disappeared and the dark bedroom ceiling materialized. The phone on the counter next to the bed kept ringing. Bauer couldn't know how long it has been doing so. With all the energy he could muster, he reached for it.

"Hello" he said.

"Jack, it's Toby. I'm sorry about the morning call, but Erin wants everyone in CTU ASAP. She said it's an emergency."

"Uh… yeah... I'll be right over," Bauer said and managed to extend his hand to reach the headset slot and hang up. He looked at the electronic clock next to the phone. It read 5:01:06 am.

---

Kenneth Forbes, special advisor to the President, was walking at a fast but steady pace. Forbes was a tall man in his mid-thirties who had been working with the current President for one year. He was personally picked by the president himself for the post and considered a no-nonsense professional among the White House staff. Forbes had been a valuable asset in the president's second election campaign, having worked many days and nights overtime for the months the campaign lasted.

Next to him, a weary Mike Novick was trying to keep up. The White House Chief of Staff had been in this post off and on since he didn't remember when. Not that it mattered; he had made quite a career in the White House and was already dealing with the fact that he would have plenty of stories to tell after his retirement, which seemed not to be far away any more. He liked to blame the day for only having 24 hours, for the times he had to wake up at "barbaric" hours like today. He was sure his younger colleague next to him was of the same sentiment.

"So how do you think he's going to take it?" Forbes asked.

"Who, the President?"

"Yeah. He's never faced so immediate a terror danger in his term. Last time something similar happened, he had latitude in order to monitor the situation. For all we know his time, a terrorist attack will occur in a few hours in Los Angeles."

"At least it's 8 in the morning here in the East Coast and he's already awake. Some others will have to get out of bed a bit early this morning." Novick added without an intention of being humorous.

A Secret Service woman was standing post outside the Oval Office door. Novick gave her a quick nod as he and Forbes walked by her. Mike knocked on the door, which opened by a remote mechanism on the President's desk.

"Here you are, then," the President offered as the two men entered. "So, what is it?"

"Mr. President," Novick said as they walked into the office, "we've just been informed that a terrorist attack is about to take place on our soil in a few hours. We deemed necessary to inform you immediately"

The President's face turned serious. "Of course you had to." He stopped, trying to mine his next words.

"We got word from the NSA that the a radiological dispersal device is going to explode in Los Angeles sometime this morning, but they haven't pinpointed an approximate time range and place." Novick continued.

President David Bowers seemed not to be able to absorb the information as it was coming from his Chief of Staff. "So… what are they waiting for?" he let out after a few moments.

Kenneth Forbes took the initiative. "Sir, the NSA had sent a field operative in Pakistan after having identified and located a group of suspects. The operation didn't go too well and the agent was caught. He was killed trying to escape."

President Bowers stood up from his desk and walked to one of the windows in the room, away from the men. Instantly, he turned around facing them.

"So, essentially, an attack is planned to take place in Los Angeles and we're hearing it now. For all we know, this could be over in one, two, three hours, yeah, three to four hours is the best guess since terrorists have the habit of… of planting bombs in the middle of the peak morning hours on busy streets. When we get intel on terrorist attacks we get it days, sometimes even months in advance. Why the delay now?" he demanded, clearly looking impatient.

"Sir, the NRO had been unable to feed the NSA with satellite intel before the latter could know where and when to deploy its agents. We needed the location and the travelling pattern of the suspects. Before we got the NRO satellite feed, not only didn't the NSA have these two pieces of information, but it didn't even have suspects to trace," Novick replied.

"So why didn't the NRO inform the NSA sooner?" the President snapped.

"They didn't have adequate intel to know where to perform a satellite sweep, Mr. President".

Bowers sighed. He walked back to his chair without sitting down. "That's just brilliant… On top of that, they have to attack now while North Korea is literally itching to invade South Korea. We've got this to worry about too, see," he exclaimed opening his hands in an act of despair. He silently wondered why all this had to happen during his own term.

The two men gave him the fact that he was having a hard time and perhaps he would have to made hard decisions soon. It came with the territory; and right now it seemed that Novick, Forbes, and a few more people high up in the government and the military would be his best friends for as long as this would last.

"Mr. President, uh, these two are not mutually exclusive," Novick took the initiative.

"Right… so do you think they're doing this to 'ask' us to refrain from intervening and, what's more, actually believe that we'll agree?" Bowers said. "And I want an NRO report on my desk as soon as possible".

---  
**5:06:21 AM**

**CTU LOS ANGELES**

Chloe O'Brian walked through the entry doors into the operations room. She took a nervous look around trying to conceal her irresistible urge to yawn, but she didn't really want to put much effort on it.

Chloe was always nervous about Erin Driscoll and everything about her; she knew it was only a matter of time until the woman came back to direct CTU, she just didn't know how long. Driscoll took a big holiday; she mourned her daughter's loss and came back to her post with a vengeance, making way for then director Bill Buchanan to get on the rise in Division.

"Max, what's going on?" she asked a colleague.

Her colleague was logging on to the CTU network. She arrived just two minutes before Chloe and was still half asleep. She looked up to Chloe but didn't answer as it took her a few moments to process the question.

"I asked what's…"

"I heard you the first time," Max snapped. "And how do you expect me to know anything at all, we've all gotten out of bed in short notice. It's past 5am if you didn't notice."

Chloe grimaced. "I was just asking. Jesus," she said and walked to her desk.

Maxine Bagwell was in her early thirties. She had brunette long hair with green eyes and had gained the admiration of the male CTU employees. This was her second year in CTU as an analyst, and the first time she had to wake up so early to come to work.

She returned to her computer screen dismissing the interruption.

Erin Driscoll looked down at the operations room outside the glass walls of her office and sighed. She saw the room cubicles slowly filling in with CTU employees as everyone was apparently being pulled off their bed to come to work early to help this particular day roll smoothly instead of possibly allowing it become a horror to remember. Driscoll herself came to CTU ten minutes ago, as soon as she had received the call from Division.

She walked to her computer on her office and took a glance at the monitor. A dialogue box now had appeared in the centre of the screen with a word that read "Synchronized". It was a daily procedure, to synchronize the databases between the CTU and Division departments across the country. Only this day, the process took place a bit earlier than the norm.

She went on to browse the new documents. So far she knew nothing else than something was going to happen in a short time frame. She resisted the urge to inform her staff before the high ranking agents showed up.

---  
**5:07:33 AM PST**

**TOWSON, MARYLAND**

Sam Fisher had the feeling time was creeping up on him.

He knew he wouldn't get away with it much longer. Not that he minded much; he was getting a good retirement paycheck for one thing, for all the years he was in the front line protecting America from enemy military to terrorists, but he wasn't at a retirement age yet. Sam was a man of action; and action he was lacking of these days.

For the past year he was spending most of his time at his home. He regarded his time in the Third Echelon as the peak of his career and after he was discharged, he felt there was nothing else he could do.

_But I'm not_ that _old._

Lambert was not of the same opinion when he ditched him from the agency; yes, he was old, in a few years time he would be fifty. Time rolls quickly.

Even if they offered him an administrative position in the NSA, he would rush to refuse it. He had spent twenty years in the field and did not believe for a single moment that he was done for.

Sam took the last sip from his coffee and dropped the morning newspaper on the coffee table next to him and got up from his chair. The garden was a mess, he thought. He had to trim the grass one of these days. Besides, he had all the time in the world. It's mainly because flora grows, as it happens, he thought. Unlike the living room, which he rarely vacuumed. Now that he was the only person living in the house, he hadn't much to do with the living room apart from watching TV. He doubted that he had to vacuum the area around the light switches either, as he barely switched the lights on in the evenings. After years of espionage, his eyes became accustomed to dark environments more than those of an average person.

Apart from the TV, Sam had another valuable object on an end table in the living room.

The picture of his daughter, Sarah.

It had been quite a while since the death of his wife Regan. In his line of work he had learned to expect almost anything. As long as it didn't hit his family's door. At first, it was Regan. Two years ago, it was Sarah. A game of fate took the last member of his family. They never found the drunk driver who ran her over.

His thoughts were interrupted by what sounded like a chopper rotor. Initially he didn't give it much thought until the sound grew louder. This is when he decided to step out of the front door and see what this was about.

The noise was amplified as he opened the door. Fisher stepped outside and looked up.

The morning sun was blocked by the shadow of a black helicopter with no labels, which was descending to the grassy field nearby.

_Some old friend?_ Sam wondered but didn't stay still to think about it; officially his work with the government had finished in the early 00's. Besides, knowing the neighbours, he was the only one who shared a common thing with the black chopper which had now touched down: they both don't exist when they work for the government. He couldn't say he made a lot of enemies inside the government, if at all, but his line of work taught him to trust no one.

Someone was paying him a visit incognito and they would be at his front door in minutes. They could simply use the phone but then he had the secure line uninstalled when he left Third Echelon. Still, you never know what these types would want.

Two men in black suits got off the helicopter and moved to Sam Fisher's house. The front door was unlocked and ajar. One of the men knocked the door.

"Mr. Fisher," he called.

There was no answer from inside.

The agent knocked and called Fisher's name again.

"Check the garden," he told his colleague. The other agent went off.

He pushed the door a little but saw no one inside.

"Mr. Fisher, we need to talk to you, sir", the agent repeated.

He walked round the front yard and to the garden. He wasn't prepared for what he saw.

Sam Fisher had grabbed the other agent in a headlock and was holding him at gunpoint. The agent knew at once the man they came to meet meant business.

"Your friend here had a pistol and I presume you have one too. Am I right or am I right?" Fisher snarled.

"Mr. Fisher, we must talk. We flew in from Fort Meade," said the agent reaching slowly for his gun.

"Nuh-huh. The gun first. Drop it down."

"You're holding an NSA agent. I can't drop my gun," the man said.

"If you decide to fire, I'll just make sure you hit this guy who is unfortunate enough to 'stand' between us. It's not as though he's a friend or a relative of mine, and I won't miss him," Fisher said decisively.

The agent let his gun down on the grass. "We're only here to give you a message from someone".

Fisher let the captive agent go and gave him a hard push. He held his gun against both of them.

"Alright, what kind of message? From whom?"

"I'm taking out a mobile phone. Don't shoot," the formerly captured agent said and slowly took a cell phone out of his pocket. He dialled a three-digit number.

"He is here, sir" he said on the phone and turned it to Fisher. Sam took it. He didn't lower his weapon.

"Hello?"

"Sam!" a voice spoke. It didn't take Fisher long to determine who it was.

"Lambert…"

"I take it you weren't expecting these two gentlemen. I'm sorry but it was the quickest way for us to get to you"

Fisher lowered the weapon after authenticating the two men as friendly.

"Why the hurry? Ok, I understand there's no secure phone in my home any more so you had to send someone to me with a secure device, which you did. So what's it all about?"

"A situation, Sam. We need your skills on the field once more. I need someone experienced, and quickly"

Fisher couldn't help but feel like an abandoned boyfriend whose ex-girlfriend hasn't yet done playing with. This, however, was a bit more complicated. Lives may be at stake, like all the other times.

"Very worrisome. So why don't you tell me what this is about?"

"There's no time. I'll brief you while you'll be in the air. I mean, if you decide to accept the offer, which I hope you will"

Sam didn't react. A few minutes ago his major achievements in the Navy and the Third Echelon had gone through his mind making him regret that he had to leave it all behind in the end. But then he got used to this life, away from missions and killings. It was time to make space for the new blood… or was it? One of the things he liked about doing that job at this age was that young people wouldn't have to … or so he believed before that mission in Seoul. Yet this time some old expertise was clearly needed and he had to help.

"You knew I wouldn't refuse. Tell me something, though. How did you know where to find me? We haven't talked in a while. I might have been on holiday."

"If you were as far as Miami, we would send someone there to inform you as easily. Your position was given away by none other than your mobile phone. You were espionage, Sam. You know better than that!"

**---  
5:15:11 AM PST**

**CTU LOS ANGELES**

Jack Bauer stormed into the Operations Room and waved at Chloe.

"Hi Chloe. Is Erin upstairs?" he asked.

"Yeah. But she is waiting for everyone to come before she speaks out"

"Thanks" Jack said quickly.

"Do you know what this is about?" Chloe threw.

"No, Chloe, I don't know"

Erin Driscoll came quickly down the stairs from her office. Bauer took a glance on her. It seemed too awkward to him to work with the woman who made him lose his job once. Jack did not expect her to accept him back to CTU but it was probably the events with Habib Marwan and those occurred one year and a half later that made her change her mind. Besides, he had kicked that heroin habit.

"Hi Jack," she said. "Chloe, did you call Toby?"

"I did, Ms. Driscoll, and he's on his way." Chloe replied.

"Right…" Driscoll murmured. "I guess that's what you get for waking people this early. We'll have to start without him."

"Ok, let's get to the situation room." Driscoll said.

"And, Ms. Driscoll, I received an interagency update by the NSA. They're sending in another operative to retrieve additional information. The operative is flying to Pakistan from a U.S. ship patrolling in international waters and will be on site within the next hour," Chloe added.

"Thanks, Chloe," Driscoll said as she started walking away.

Toby Rashid Abdallah had to keep his prayer brief today. The Fajr prayer would finish at 6 o' clock, but today he had got a call from Special Agent in Charge Erin Driscoll to turn up to CTU as soon as possible. With minimal traffic on the road, he would be in CTU in five minutes.

Erin was also in the dark regarding the situation when she called him, but now CTU would have probably synced with Division. He couldn't imagine what it could possibly be. He hadn't ever waked up so early to go to the agency and if there was any national emergency, they would have got warnings from other agencies days ago.

The situation room was full with CTU senior agents and some middle-rank analysts, all sitting around the conference table. It was often enough that the situation room was this packed but not in such a short notice in an hour of the day where only the night shifters were in the building.

Driscoll walked in and took a quick look at her staff as if to mentally note down attendance levels. She walked quickly next to the big screen of the wall of the situation room and pressed some buttons. A night vision satellite picture appeared on the screen.

"Three months ago, ten kilos of caesium-137 was reported stolen from cancer treatment equipment in Istanbul. Around the same time, one week later to be precise, the NSA intercepted a call about twenty kilos of Semtex explosive that was stolen from a military facility near Sukkur, Pakistan. These two materials have been unaccounted for ever since and our agencies had been attempting to trace them back to the perpetrators. At 3:00 hours today, the NSA's operatives in Pakistan learned about an imminent terrorist attack in Los Angeles. The attack will be carried out sometime in the morning, but the NSA does not have an approximate time frame. Homeland Security has raised the terror alert level to orange," she announced.

Everyone remained in their seats fixing their eyes on her.

"We do know that the attacks are backed by Islamic extremists based on Pakistan but we don't know who their liaison is in L.A. It's like looking for a needle in a haystack and we have to start looking for it right now. The NSA has been monitoring a Second Wave base in Pakistan. This is where the extremists they've been watching originated from. We're working on a list of suspects here in L.A. that have ties to the Second Wave."

The name Second Wave hadn't been going around in CTU in a while. Sometimes they received alerts about them, have connected suspects to them but not much else. He thought it was only a matter of time before they were up to something.

"Did the NSA say why they have no further information?" Bauer asked.

"They said they had sent a field operative in Pakistan but he was caught before he could retrieve more information. He's now unaccounted for. At this point we still don't know why the NRO did not inform the NSA of the suspects' location in Pakistan earlier," Driscoll replied. She looked at the staff that weren't around Chloe's desk earlier and told them about the new NSA update and the operative that was just dispatched to Pakistan. "Yet, we have to do our part here. The NSA is just providing last-minute help in fighting the threat," she concluded.

Bauer took her eyes off her and turned his head to the conference table.

"I have to brief President Bowers. The rest of you are dismissed. When Toby comes, fill him in. We have synced our servers with Division's," Driscoll instructed and grabbed a dossier on the table.

Everyone stood up and made for the door. There was chatter on the way out that Driscoll couldn't make anything of. She waved at Bauer, who was the last one to make his way out.

"Jack. You will have to stand by. We may have to move in and interrogate some potential suspects."

"Yeah, I'll be ready." Bauer said. "Who's on the field right now?"

"Curtis. He's in North Figueroa with his team, waiting for deployment"

The door opened. Both agents looked at Toby, who entered the situation room.

"I'm sorry for being late. Max told me you were all briefed."

"Sorry to interrupt your morning prayer, Toby. Yes, I've briefed the rest of the staff and you'll be updated at the same time as the President. We've been informed of an intended terrorist attack in Los Angeles in the next few hours," Driscoll said. She turned to Bauer. "Thanks, Jack. Just be ready."

Bauer walked out of the room. Toby was trying to process the information.

**---  
5:27:32 AM PST**

**THE WHITE HOUSE**

"What's taking them so long?" Bowers murmured, supporting his jaw with his hands on his desk.

"It's almost half past five there, Mr. President. Most of them learned about it minutes ago," Forbes pointed out. _Just like we did. You should know that,_ is what he didn't say out loud.

"Yeah, but these people are in the front line. A terrorist attack will take place in Los Angeles and if _they_'re not up to stopping it, then who is?"

The three men were looking at the static in the large monitor in a few feet away from them. Forbes was now seriously longing for the screen to go live and see faces of the CTU ranking officials, but for a different reason: This would save him from having to find the words to deal with the President's frenzy and respond to his last rhetorical question. He was sure Novick was thinking the same.

At that point the screen static vanished. The faces of two CTU agents appeared.

"At last", Bowers exclaimed.

"Mr. President…" Driscoll paused, took a look at the three men on the screen, then continued, "you also have Assistant Special Agent in Charge Toby Rashid Abdallah in the room. We've just synchronized with Division and got the new data from the NSA."

"What have you got so far?" the President asked impatiently.

"Right now we're narrowing down a list of known suspects, sir. In the next few minutes we'll have the matches that we need. You need to understand that at this point we're as much as in the dark as you, Mr. President."

"And you have nothing else except for these suspects?"

"That is correct, sir. The suspects have known ties to the Second Wave. This is the only lead we've got at this point. In addition, our field ops are ready to move in to the targets when we give the order. As you probably have been informed, the NSA has ordered another agent to investigate the same site in Pakistan," Driscoll continued, making an attempt to reassure him somehow.

"Yes, I know about that, we received the memo ourselves," Bowers snapped. "Just inform me as soon as you have something, Erin. Anything."

"Yes, Mr. President," Driscoll said, feeling defeated.

The connection was severed.

"Now you know, Toby. Let's get to work. We'll have some matches in minutes." She laid her left hand on the leather chair in front of her. "It's a witch hunt but if you have a better solution, I'm willing to listen"

Toby looked pensive. "No… no, I can't think of anything."

Jack Bauer looked through the window inside the situation room. All these years on and off CTU caused his career to stall significantly. Although he was now permanently reinstated, others bypassed him in the course to promotion. Like this guy, Toby, Assistant Special Agent in Charge, CTU's second in command. Jack got along with him pretty well and felt he deserved to be in the position he was. Toby never made Jack feel he was below him in the chain of command, probably because Bauer had been in CTU much longer than he was. Another good thing with Toby was that having a Muslim in an American counterterrorism agency helped diminish the stereotype many analysts and field ops had about Muslims and terrorism.

His thoughts were interrupted by Chloe's voice calling Max Bagwell.

"This guy is from the CTU's current suspect files."

Toby and Driscoll walked through the operations room when they heard Chloe themselves.

"Look at this. Jemal Rehmani, Westwood resident. Pakistani national. Minor convictions, suspected to have a minor role in the nuclear bomb case a few years ago here in L.A. He's been under surveillance after he was found funding a radical Muslim cleric who had toured the country inciting a nationwide revolution against the Western way of life." Chloe panted. "He received two phone calls from Faisalabad, Pakistan on his home phone number, the first one six weeks ago and the second one four weeks ago. I'm downloading the translated transcript from the server."

Bauer and the two high ranking officers were above her now, as the transcript appeared on Chloe's screen. It was no more than ten lines long.

"It looks like a friend-to-friend conversation," Toby remarked, "at least in the beginning of it. Then it doesn't make sense."

The conversations in both calls started with two simple greetings as a friendly chat. They were unusually small to be that, though. Moreover, the context later on in the text was not clear and there were references to locations using numbers.

"Maybe they were speaking in code." Chloe sounded.

"Perhaps," Driscoll said. "If this is what they said on the phone, it should raise some suspicion."

"It's too obvious," Bauer commented.

"Maybe, but it's still not clear what kind of conversation this is," Driscoll said.

"There's nothing else on him, no other calls," Chloe remarked.

"Maybe they were using payphones. He couldn't have used his home number to make these types of phone calls all the time," Toby said.

"Send the link to my computer," Driscoll said.

"Are we going after him? For all we know he may be ok." Chloe said.

"Just do it, Chloe!" Driscoll snapped. _You're not paid to act on sentiment._ "Max, is Curtis on standby?"

"Yes, Ms. Driscoll, he's waiting orders."

"Good. Where could Rehmani be at this hour?"

"His every day pattern dictates he receives Fajr prayer in the Abu Hammad Mosque," Max replied.

"Fajr prayer finishes at 6 today. He's still in the mosque then," Toby said.

"I'll pull up the schematics," Max said and started typing on her keyboard.

"We're bringing him here for questioning." Driscoll wished she could just send somebody to talk to him, but for lack of time and due to the fact he may be involved and possible carry a weapon today, she though more drastic measured had to be employed.

"Erin, Toby," Jack said and walked away from Max and Chloe's desks. Driscoll and Abdallah followed him.

"I don't think this is a good idea," he said.

"To bring him here? Why, is that?" Driscoll made her voice a bit more imposing, feeling she was being challenged.

"It will waste valuable time. Curtis can apprehend him and question him there. It's still too early for the roads to have traffic, yet we cannot risk it. Instead, I can be at the mosque in about 20 minutes and see to it personally."

"Toby will you excuse us for a moment?" Driscoll said.

"Sure," Toby replied and walked away.

"Jack, I'll be frank with you. I don't trust your methods. I want you here where you can be controlled better. During the time we've worked together here in CTU I have trusted you, but this time I think you'll screw this up, as you have done many times in the past. If you hadn't, you could have been in a good post in Division now."

"It's not about promotion and paycheques, Erin!" Jack snapped. "You know that. And you know I'm right. Please. If this guy is crooked, I will break him."

Driscoll didn't speak. Instead she looked away from Bauer. She crossed her arms and looked back at him.

"Alright. But you have to know I don't agree with this."

_And you have to know I don't give a shit whether you agree or not. _"Trust me, Erin."

---  
**5:37:39 AM**

**NORTH FIGUEROA, L.A.**

Curtis Manning would fall asleep. He came here this early to do some work, not sit on the comfortable driver's seat of his CTU-issued black SUV. It was yet too early in the morning to use a helicopter, unless he wanted to wake up half of Los Angeles. Besides, the roads were empty, so no much harm done.

His mobile phone rang. Curtis hoped this would be it.

"Manning," he answered.

"Curtis, it's Toby. Your target is in the Abu Hammad mosque in South Gate. The morning prayer is ending at 6 o'clock, so you have to be there before that. Jack is leaving CTU now and he'll rendezvous with you on site in about 20 minutes. He's coming to interrogate the suspect once you have him."

"Chloe here. Uploading suspect data, schematics of the mosque and surrounding streets to the TAC teams."

"Copy that, we're moving," Curtis confirmed and hung up. He reached for his radio. "All teams. Move to Abu Hammad mosque in South Gate. Repeat, move to Abu Hammad mosque in South Gate."

He heard the acknowledgements from the radio as he started the car's engine.

**---  
5:38:46 AM PST**

**THE WHITE HOUSE**

"Ken, where are we with the Koreans?" Bowers asked.

"There are some hostilities at the borders, sir. It doesn't look it will end soon. The USS Bill Clinton is patrolling south of the Korean Peninsula at this moment."

The phone on the desk of the Oval Office rang. Bowers picked up the receiver.

"Yes."

"Mr. President, the First Lady is here," the operator's voice sounded.

"Yes, send her in," Bowers said. He turned to his aides "Keep me informed"

"Yes sir," Forbes said as the two got up and walked to the door.

David Bowers looked down at his desk and covered his face with his hands. He let out a sigh. Above all things, he was thinking that the following events would be determinant in his presidency. _It comes with the territory and there's nothing you can do about it_, he told himself.

"Hey there," a familiar voice interrupted.

The president looked up to see Kendra Bowers. The First Lady was standing above his desk smiling at him.

"You didn't hear me walk in did you?" she said

"Er… sorry honey. I was thinking."

"I just saw Mike and Ken walk out of here. You looked pretty down about an hour ago, now you seem worse."

"I've heard some terrible news. Why don't you sit down?"

Kendra hesitantly sat in one of the two seats in front of the president's office. The President told her.

When he finished, Kendra was lost for words.

"My god… we have to tell Jonathan," she said.

"I'll tell Mike to inform the Secret Service agents that are with him".

"Should we alert the media?" Kendra said worryingly.

"We never do that in such a case. I mean, you know that already, honey. We needn't spread panic now. Besides, if the terrorists are tipped off and abort their plans, we won't have the chance to catch them this time. It's a matter of months, maybe years before they come back, and if we can now stop them in time, next time they may elude us."

"And what will the people say if there's an attack on, say, UCLA, where Jonathan studies, and the media later on discover that the son of their President was tipped off and did not show up for his classes while other L.A. residents were killed because they hadn't been warned? What are they going to think, Dave?" Kendra gave him a long hard look.

Bowers had already taken his eyes off his wife's. "It remains that we cannot tell the media. As for that other thing you said, my dear Kendra… I think the shit just hit the fan."

**---  
5:46:41 AM**

**OUTSIDE ABU HAMMAD MOSQUE**

Curtis stepped out of his SUV. At the same time, a blue van came to stop twenty metres far and another SUV parked ten metres further. Curtis ran to meet his men.

"These are the points I want you to position your men," he told one of his colleagues. "We will not enter the structure unless we don't see our suspect coming out. Besides, we have to wait until the place gets a little empty. He must be captured _alive_. Anyway, if he's armed and gives us a hard time, wax him".

"Yes, sir," the other man said.

Curtis's phone rang.

"Yes," he answered.

"Curtis, this is Jack. Are you in position?"

"Yeah. What's your ETA?"

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes"

"Copy that," Curtis said and hung up. He turned to the other agent.

"We'll cover the exits here and here," he showed two points on his PDA. "Alright, let's go!"

**---  
8:51:20 AM EST**

**ANDREWS AIR FORCE BASE, MARYLAND**

The black helicopter was fifty feet above the runway and lowering.

What Fisher learned from Lambert was at least disturbing. His former superior insisted on briefing him through the secure line and not when they met face to face, because he was scheduled to take off on a plane immediately. The two men went through the basics on the phone and they would set the last details then they met.

"That was very short notice, Lambert," Fisher had said over the phone.

"I know, but the NRO only located the suspects' base of operations a very little while before the announced attack. In fact, I dispatched a splinter cell there minutes after I got their intel. It's not the norm to divulge this kind of intel in such short notice and they're not saying why this happened."

"I see you didn't waste any time replacing me," the ex-splinter cell had remarked.

Fisher could now identify the figures of retired colonel Irving Lambert in his suit, his aide Anna Grímsdóttir and field runners William Redding, also in a suit, and Frances Coen, with the baseball hat she refused to part with. _Nothing changed since the not-so-old times_, he thought. A military jeep was near them. There was also something else Fisher could identify as an aircraft but unlike anything he had ever seen before.

The craft below him was enormous. It looked like an isosceles triangle with a sharp front, perfectly flat on the top. Fisher's first impression was that he must be dreaming. The wings were practically nonexistent. It was about 50 metres from front to back – no windows, nothing but hull.

Fisher thought the NSA agents might not know anything about this, so he decided to take it up with Lambert.

The helicopter touched down a few metres away from the craft and the Third Echelon personnel. Fisher opened the door. Lambert and Grímsdóttir walked towards the helicopter.

"Hello, Sam. Thanks for accepting this task," Lambert said.

"Welcome back to the team, Sam. It's been a while," Grímsdóttir offered.

Fisher exchanged quick handshakes with the two ranking Third Echelon officers and waved at the two field runners, who had started coming their way. Lambert waved at the NSA agent in the chopper to take off.

"I've had my morning coffee, Irving, so I'm pretty much ready for anything now," Fisher said.

"I wish we had time for chit-chat, but you have to fly off right away. We don't know when the terrorists will strike and we must find out ASAP. Redding and Coen will accompany you."

Sam exchanged quick handshakes with the two field runners, who joined them.

"Will... Fran… Good to see you guys."

"So do we, Sam. I only wish it weren't under these circumstances," Redding said.

"So where are we going?" Fisher asked Lambert.

"To Rawalpindi, Pakistan. As I explained on the phone, agent Nick Jeffers was sent there as soon as we had had a lead. Unfortunately, he was captured and killed before he retrieved the exact time the terrorists intend to strike Los Angeles. You, on the other hand, may have gotten a little rusty these days, but I trust no one else to complete Jeffers's mission. Your operational record shows that I can trust you well for this."

Fisher frowned. "You know where Pakistan is, don't you? It would take me six hours in our fastest aircraft to get there. We know the strike will happen in a few hours only. Unless you have an aircraft that can cover the distance in a matter of minutes, an hour the most, the mission will turn into no more than paid vacation".

"Actually, you're not entirely wrong, Sam. The X-41 Common Aero Vehicle can be in Pakistani airspace in an hour."

Fisher took a look at the aircraft and crossed his hands. Looking at it sideways, it seemed to have about the height of a military transport aircraft only twice its length. "You mean I'll be flying in _that _thing?"

"Yeah. You'll be flying at maximum altitude… two hundred miles. The X-41 took Jeffers to Pakistan. It returned an hour ago. Not many people know about this and you're about the first non-government employee that is authorized to this information. While you were on your way here I sent an interagency memo reporting that the next operative going to Rawalpindi is stationed in a U.S. ship patrolling in international waters."

"Neato. I'll see if I can spot my house from up there," Fisher answered without facing the colonel.

"I doubt it as there are no windows, Fisher." Lambert paused. "You need to go now. Will and Frances will accompany you on the mission. We need all the resources we can get on this one. Your gear is waiting for you inside."

"I hope you remember what size I am," Fisher joked turning to face Lambert again.

"Don't worry about that but only about your mission. You have to make this happen, Sam."

"I will…" Fisher simply responded.

The two men exchanged a second handshake.

"I wish we had had the time to do some catching up," Lambert said.

"Me too… but we're saving that for when I get back"

Fisher gave his hand to Anna and they hand shook again.

"I'll be monitoring you as in the old times, Sam." Grímsdóttir said.

"Right. But no singing on my earpiece please," Fisher smirked.

"What! I've never sung to you during a mission!"

"I know. I'm just asking to keep it that way"

"Actually you haven't ever heard me sing!"

"Sam, you've gotta make haste." Lambert pointed out.

"Sure, boss." Fisher looked both of them as he started walking towards his other colleagues. "We'll keep in touch"

Grímsdóttir and Lambert looked at the three walking to the rear of the huge aircraft. In fact, since the aircraft engine was not on, they waited until Sam was well out of earshot.

As Fisher was walking further from them, Anna felt free to talk.

"You think he'll find out?" she asked in a low voice.

"I doubt it but it won't make a difference anyway. Come on let's go, it's pretty windy here on the runway," Lambert said calmly.


End file.
